I'm Walking Here!
by ReturnToSender
Summary: Offbeat. Iruka was remarkable because he was unremarkable, and Kakashi? He's sort of that winding side road...you know, the one with colorful shops and homeless kids who eye your fruit. KakIru. Series...of things.
1. Chapter 1

_Hidden_

I.

Though undoubtedly dangerous, it was supposed to be a fairly straight forward mission.

Iruka bit hard into the flesh of his cheek, stifiling his breath as the enemy Nin applied more weight to his already dislocated shoulder. _Rule number one_, he snorted to himself, _there's no such thing as a 'straight forward' mission_. He should've learned that in Academy. Pain radiated like fire down his back, scorching each individual vertebrate until his thoughts scattered and he could hardly breathe. Just barely move. He knew he had to think fast, because if any more Nin from Iwagakure showed up there wouldn't be any more _him _to salvage, let alone a mission.

Iruka narrowed his eyes, blinking away the sting of sweat, baulking at his suddenly defeatest attitude. _No_, he decided, he'd come to far for failure now, especially over something so stupid. Over some asshole rock ninja who'd crossed paths with him before his infiltration. Why hadn't he struck as soon as he'd recognized the man?

Iruka tried furiously to keep the stomach acid from crawling up his throat.

He knew there was a simple answer to that question, though it annoyed him to realize he had to be in this position to carry it out. The fact of the matter was he, a 'missing Nin' new to their village - but willing to establish ties anyway - could not just up and kill a resident ninja. No matter how much said ninja had threatened him.

Iruka supposed he should be thankful the bastard's stupid brain hadn't matched him to Konohagakure until about thirty seconds ago. He was also silently thankful the rock ninja had attacked first. The perfect way to eliminate an enemy in this situation? Make it _unaccountable_. The man's comrades were no more than twelve feet away, starring in curiosity and confusion. The perfect witnesses.

Iruka couldn't help chuckling through the pain. It was _fortunate_ the idiot's head was as hard as a rock, as he had yet to utter a word of Iruka's identity.

He wouldn't get the chance to either.

Suddenly wrenching his arm - he almost blacked out at the sickening crunch - Iruka landed a high kick under the rock Nin's jaw, distantly pleased at the choked yell and resulting gurgle. He'd probably knocked out most of the man's teeth so he wouldn't be saying anything for a couple seconds.

Just long enough for Iruka to shove a katana through his heart.

_Gods forgive me the life I take..._

The Nin looked down at the hilt protruding from his chest, a pained cough and gusher of blood pouring from his mouth. He looked confused, and Iruka felt something other than sweat burn his eyes. Something like tears. Gripping the broader man's shoulder, Iruka ripped the blade back out, a breath ripped from his lungs along with it, and starred into the waxy face.

He had electric blue eyes that vaguely reminded him of his favorite student...back home and far away in Konoha. The man couldn't have been much older than Naruto himself

So, with dark eyes betraying nothing - the usually sweet chocolate color muted and blank - Iruka watched as the man crashed to his knees, even more blood spilling from lips and chest wound. He sent a discreet glance towards the other ninja, both respectively silent and attentive to their comrades last moments.

_Which I only do to save my own..._

Iruka lifted his sword in the deathly silence, the imagined sound of his students voices and appreciative laughter, giving his arm the strength to fall once again.

_Shnk_.

_And to save those I hold dear. _

II.

Iruka smeared the dark paint across his eyes, starring disinterestedly at his reflection in the mirror. The apartment had been provided after he'd performed services illustrating his loyalties to the Tsuchikage - which included difficult missions, and the handing over of a few moderately important pieces of info pertaining to the Kumogakure. The place was small, barren, a yellowed tinge to the walls and perfect for the mission he was currently carrying out.

Of course, Iruka had originally changed his appearance in the hopes of avoiding such...incidents as what occurred a few days ago, but nothing too drastic.

He plucked a stick of charcoal out of the pencil tin.

One of the reasons Iruka had been sent in the first place was that his boring and rather unassuming looks could be efficiently altered with excellent effect. If he were frank, and he usually was, he'd admit it was one of his most notable skills when delegated to infiltration. Girl, boy, prim, or boisterously friendly, Iruka could do it all.

_Geese,_ he thought with some amusement, _I sound like the Wonder Peeler 3000._

See, what people didn't know about the chamaeleon game - or better known as Infiltration - was that it had more to do with the details than anything else. Gestures, a certain posture, even minute facial expressions were the most effective way to attract or detract attention. If information were needed from a notoriously drunken Jounin, or perhaps a lonely and sheltered housewife, all Iruka had to do was say the right words, make the right hair flip, or tilt his hip just so and conversation could be negotiated from there.

Iruka was remarkable because he was unremarkable. Everything else was just paint and parlor tricks.

Brushing a couple strands of hair over his left eye - it gave a tried and true 'mysterious' look, no lie - Iruka recoated his scar with a thin layer of concealer. Though it was still fairly visible if one got up close, he knew the dark stripe of charcoal and red smear crossing his eyelids and nose all the way around to his temples, would shadow it enough so most wouldn't notice. He'd purposely made his eyes the most striking of his features, hoping to instil a certain amount of fear. Also, it helped with the glare of 'Hidden Rock,' as almost everything reflected the sunlight. Their buildings, streets, surrounding territory, all were made out of the same smooth stone.

He'd dressed in loose fitting attire, quite resembling that of the Sunagakure Ninja, as they and Rock shared perhaps the longest border among all the major Nin territories. They'd also shared families and trading rights for a century.

Iruka figured about another month - despite it being attested to as self-defense, the Nin's murder had set him back a couple weeks developing _friendly _contacts (if you called round drinking and good natured permittance of gropes, friendly) - before he'd be able to gather the documents from the Tsuchikage's hidden base.

Iruka taped up the material around his calves, sighing at the cottony softness of their uniforms. Really, the Hokage should think about investing in more comfortable uniforms for the Leaf Ninja, instead of spending it on pipe tobacco. He was quite jealous of Iwagakure already.

III.

It had ended up taking more like a month and a half, and even then he'd cut it pretty close. The night of his theft, Iruka had been spotted by border patrol on his way out of town. Luckily, it had taken them a precious few _hours_ before they'd figured out what happened - a couple clever traps in just the right places did a _hell _of a lot of damage - and way before the Tsuchikage had been able to send out trackers. Or so he'd later beat - uh - heard from a defected rock Nin.

So, feeling surprisingly swanky - Iruka supposed it had to do with living a certain way for so long - and not even realizing it, he strolled right into Kohona in full Iwa gear. Of course the guards had been informed of his special missions before hand, but that didn't stop Kotetsu, who was on duty at the time, from wolf whistling the other Ninja. Iruka had peered at him strangely for a moment, before doing a totally confident little saunter onto main street.

He regretted not changing outside the gates almost immediately. Okay, so he looked out of place, no need to stare at him like he'd just killed the Hokage and was planning to murder everyone's first born child. Iruka grumbled and rubbed irritably at his shoulder. Maybe he should stop by his apartment first before reporting to the Hokage...Yeah, but then he'd feel like a lazy, good for nothing Jounin - really, those guys needed serious help. Like pills or something.

Skirting another mad produce seller who'd just thrown an apple at his head - which he caught by the way, and it tasted damn delicious - Iruka couldn't help laughing to himself. Man, he really was good if even his own villagers, the people who saw him everyday, were taken in by the arrogant swagger and over-the-top make up. He clucked idly with his tongue. It was true what he'd said - a mere change in demeanor and approach could make someone a completely different person.

In fact...

Smiling seductively at some random Jounin, Iruka shook a couple strands of dark hair out of his eyes. Hey, he could never do this as_ Umino-the-school-teacher_. The Jounin stopped dead in his tracks, completely enthralled by the 'gorgeous foreigner.'

Iruka held out his apple, a full bottom lip pushed up in the most adorable pout as the regular traffic split around them. He summoned his best husky, _I'm-a-foreigner-help-me _voice.

Poor guy never had a chance.

"_Is _my apple Jounin sir, is not sweet like the _appurrs _at home! Do you think is _sweet_?"

Iruka let his eyes wonder up to the Jounin's face and almost dropped his fruit in shock. He felt his insides spasm hotly. Okay, how in the _hell _had he picked Naruto's teacher of all people?! _Please_, don't let the guy know it was him - if anything up there loved him, pleased don't let the guy know it was him!

Iruka went to retract his hand, just as another, maddeningly stronger, hand wrapped around his wrist and stopped him. He looked up, glad the paint and shadow of his bangs covered his eyes.

In one swift movement he didn't even attempt to follow, Kakashi Hatake had taken a bite out of _his _apple. Iruka felt his face heat. Why the hell did that sound so dirty? And how the hell did Kakashi do that without showing his mouth? Or anything else for that matter!

Che, and Iruka had been dead curious too...

Feeling the carefully aloof and arrogant persona begin to slip - another phenomenon he would examine later - Iruka quickly snatched back his apple. Then he began edging towards traffic again.

"Taste sweet enough to me...but then maybe I'm biased."

Iruka took another quick bite before turning sharply and muttering something as he hurried down the road.

"Ehh, Kakashi sir...is sweeter _now_..."


	2. Chapter 2

1A/N - My apologies if these are a strange series of things. This one is again Iruka oriented and it ends just as abruptly as the last. When I write these things I have a tendency to end when I can't think of anything more important to mention. The Next One I promise, will be VERY funny - I hope - and have much more interaction between Kakashi, Iruka, and some Team 7 humor.

YES. And to the person who left that one word review, though I doubt you'll read this. I wasn't sure how to go about responding to that, as the larger part of me - who shrugs and mutters whatever - wanted to simply ignore it and move one, since I got so many other VERY MUCH nicer reviews. Then the small me leaked out and typed this before I could stop it. I respect your opinion, first amendment rocks, I love giving criticism - WHEN ITS CONSTRUCTIVE. Small me also wants to point a finger at you and scream 'well yeah duh, it's gay!' Didn't you see the pairing? But if it wasn't blatant enough, here it is again.

It's gay, male/male relations. I love Iruka, and you aren't really worthy of all this bitching. I'm going to stop now. And to the BEAUTIFUL kind people who this DOES NOT pertain to, thank you for being so nice, and you so don't have to read this large and first rant of mine.

Flame on, men!

_Memories_

I.

Iruka continued to skip and turn down a fairly deserted Kohona road, screaming the words of his favorite loud and terribly non-sensible song. He knew he wasn't a very good singer, but felt in this case more volume and enthusiasm were needed, instead of skill. Anyway it was nice when he got to do things that required no talent.

He also liked to annoy the villagers.

"_Don't you ever get stuck in the sky, when you're hiii-aiiiiih!"_

He grinned and stuck his tongue out at Izumo, who passed by tossing a couple shuriken in the air like a juggling act. The boy, of course, was followed closely by his best friend Kotetsu, who in turn looked at Iruka with a mixture of horror and amusement on his face.

Iruka just got up uncomfortably close and began to yell at him. _"When your moon is fake, and your mermaids cry, do you ever believe you were stuck in the Skyy-aiiii!"_

Kotetsu gave a dubious sort of snort before shoving past him. _How rude_, Iruka mentally pouted, stumbling back a couple steps before correcting himself. Seriously, there was no need for physical violence, as he already got enough of that training with his stupid team. _Those two_, Iruka grumbled unhappily to himself, were always mean to him, giving him shit just because he was scrawny - which didn't equate total weakness!

_Stupid jerks._

They were all high and mighty because their families were famous with respectable blood-line limits. So what?! A person didn't have to be a genius to love and protect their village!

Bleah, he hated spoiled clan brats.

Iruka bonked Kotetsu upside the head - which the boy just laughed off, but smiled nicely about anyway - before turning up his little ear phones and yelling louder.

"_Don't you ever get stuck in the sky! La, la, la! Don't you ever get stuck in the sky!"_

Closing his eyes and twirling about like a retarded top, Iruka laughed at the lady who was leaning out her window and shaking a fist at him. He supposed she didn't like his mad awesome singing skills. _Oh well_, he hummed airily to himself, he'd already decided he was the only one who could comment on his lack of talent anyway.

Snickering some more, Iruka danced backwards in what looked like a retarded jig - not paying a spec of attention as he backed into something big and _solid_. He felt his stomach drop at the chakra signature. Now, as a rule, Iruka was a little more alert than his clumsy actions suggested, but apparently with music and - he couldn't help gulping - the obvious caliber of who he'd stumbled into, his ninja skills had been severely limited.

It was also _definitely _Not A Good Thing, a huge-big-no-no in fact, that he'd bumped into someone in a Ninja Village. You don't bump into _anyone _in a Ninja Village, on purpose or otherwise, unless you want your ass beat ugly. Yes, Iruka knew quite a few Jounin and quite a few Chunin who could actually beat a man _ugly_.

Feeling the sweat soak into his ear buds and fear become an almost tangible thing, Iruka slowly tilted his head back, bumping it against a hard chest, his eyes widening comically at what they landed on. An elite Jounin. An elite Jounin was starring curiously down at him, a familiar mask and a mop of gray hair in place.

Oh boy. Iruka gulped again and took back every mean thing he'd ever thought or said about geniuses, because they were all beautiful and _certainly _didn't beat little Genin-about-to-become-Chunin idiots who'd stupidly bumped into them.

It was Hatake Kakashi from the bingo book that the Academy made you read in second year. _No way, _Iruka mentally sobbed, _I can't die like this! I haven't even boned a girl yet!_

Ouch

Hardening himself at the painfully honest thought - seriously, _ouch_ - Iruka knew his time had come. He'd have to do it, he'd have to finally employ the secret Umino technique. Sucking in a huge breath of air, Iruka let his eyes get big, wet and shiny. "P-please don't kill me mister Jounin!" Ah yes, the much coveted Beg Like Your Life Depended On It Jutsu! Please let it be his saving grace!

The older Ninja just blinked lazily, before lifting up a hand - which Iruka flinched at for good measure - to scratch boredly at the back of his head.

"Maa..."

An instant later, Iruka was being pulled away and settled between two familiar and strong chakras. Izumo and Kotetsu. He thanked his lucky stars that fear and the possibility of a fight seemed to attract ninja like bees to honey - since Iruka was positive those two had disappeared a _long _while ago.

If he survived this beating, which Iruka was painfully sure he would, he'd bake them both a big fat cake.

"Leave Iruka alone you freak!" Iruka blinked at Kotetsu, aghast and silently heartened that the boy would defend him so. Guess they'd all get beat today, but at least they could all whine at each other from their hospital beds after it was over too.

The Jounin stared at them in confusion for a second, before the single eye Iruka could see turned offended - and then hurt, but it didn't last long enough for him to be sure about that. After all, Kakashi Hatake was a super-strong genius Jounin. What could hurt him?

...So then why did Iruka feel so damn bad about his friend calling him a name?

A deep and slightly sullen voice broke the silence. "I didn't do anything. He just bumped into me. Didn't even get a sorry either."

Iruka fidgeted slightly, swinging his ear buds side to side as he watched Kotetsu and Izumo try to figure out what to do. He felt even guiltier now. _No_, Iruka decided, like his hero the Hokage, he would protect his two friends!

The big wet eyes returned in full force.

"S-sorry Jounin sir. I-I didn't mean to back into you. My humblest apologies. My, err, friend apologizes too." Iruka pinched Kotetsu's waist, making the boy yelp before reluctantly apologizing as well.

The Jounin looked mollified enough, though still kind of grouchy, so Iruka figured it would be a good idea to scram. He pushed Izumo and Kotetsu back up the street, muttering a bunch of 'thank yous' to their blushing 'no problems,' and would've almost run off himself if he hadn't remembered something...

"Yeah, what do you want clumsy?" The Jounin muttered in a gruff voice, looking slightly irritated at Iruka's return. He was leaning cooly next to a stall, sharing the shade of its awning, an orange book in hand.

Iruka felt embarrassed when he read the cover, yet also perversely curious as to how the boy had gotten it. Kakashi-san was only four or five years older than him, about fifteen or sixteen.

The book store wasn't supposed to sell porn to anyone under eighteen.

Summoning a butt load of courage he didn't know he had, Iruka tried not to stutter. Yes, he _would_ do this. "You steal that or somethin'? 'Cause that's cool if you did."

There was silence for a long time, so long in fact Iruka felt put out, and was about to just up and leave when he finally got an answer. "Don't need to steal anything. They sell it to me."

Iruka crossed his arms and tapped a foot. "But you're under eighteen! You'll get in big trouble! Even worse than that time I flooded all the toilets on the second floor." Blinking at the bigness of his _stupid _mouth, Iruka clamped his hands across his lips, blushing at the amused look sent his way.

"Maa...I heard about that. Biggest prank of the school year or something." Clamping his book shut, the jounin stood and shot Iruka a slight thumbs up. "Nice."

Iruka didn't think he could've been anymore flattered if the Hokage himself had come out and presented him with a gold-plated medal. So, not even considering the repercussions because Iruka was just like that, he scurried forward and lifted up his headphones and the wafer sized base. "This is my favorite song. Why don't you hear it? I'll wait until your done."

II.

Iruka snored loudly before a paper airplane hit him in the face. Convulsing in his chair, confused and a little tired, he jerked forward and glared blearily at his class. They were silent of course - _freaking hell spawn_, he grumbled - but like the ability to smell fear that went to every well-trained ninja, so the ability to smell mischief went to a ninja Academy teacher. Oh, and could Iruka smell it ripe on their angelic bodies, hunched over studious at their desks. _Hmm, maybe I'll give a teensy-weensy history assignment tonight, _he cackled evilly.

Letting his eyes drift over each and every one of them in turn, reveling in the brief surge of power when they all huddled in fear, Iruka smiled brightly at his students. The children cringed further, of course. They all knew what The Smile meant in Iruka-sensei terms. "Okay class. Since you all obviously love throwing things, tonight you will write a three-page paper on situations where you should _not _discharge your weapons, but use hand-to-hand combat instead. I want references and site information from the textbook! Who ever doesn't turn a paper in...well, they get a date with The Tree, understood?"

A chorus of terrified voices were like music to his ears. "Hai Sensei!"

Glancing at the clock, Iruka realized they had about twenty minutes until class was out. Just enough time for a cigarette break and to come back to kick -er- see his students off.

"Brats! Work on your paper while I'm gone, and if any one of you makes a noise or leaves -"

He left the last part open ended knowing they'd catch his drift.

III

Squatting in the alcove near the out-door toilets, Iruka sucked gladly at his little piece of heaven. No one knew about his habit, as truthfully he found it quite distasteful himself, but at thirteen he'd tried one and been hooked ever since. It was an embarrassment yes, but being damned near saint-hood anyway, Iruka figured he was due a vice.

At least he wasn't a sex-aholic. Of course, that didn't mean he disregarded the perks of a good lay. He mused blandly about perhaps getting himself some before the week was through.

Stress leaving his body by inches with every puff and exhale, Iruka let his mind wander back to the dream he'd been having before the maggots-from-hell interrupted. Well, sort of dream. It wasn't exactly a _dream _since the incident did happen, but the memory was so old he was surprised it resurfaced.

...Okay, so he wasn't really surprised, as old memories concerning a certain Jounin had been popping up a lot recently. In fact, ever since he'd bumped into the man, Iruka had been unable to get a peaceful night's sleep.

Memories upon memories, heaps of memories that in one shape, form, or another had pertained to the famous Copy-cat Nin. Iruka didn't even need to interface with the man for the vista to play out in his sleeping mind, just as long as there was mention of him along the way. Old gossip, praise, conversations Iruka had overheard - all of it, basically imploding in his skull.

It was - to steal a phrase from one of his former students - troublesome, very troublesome.

Iruka glared at the burning end of his cigarette, as if the little tube of paper and chemicals could somehow solve all his problems. Answer all his questions at least.

It just smoked and burned.

Sighing, he glanced at his watch, and then proceeded to crush the addicting thing out. He'd really have to start buying from Asuma, as the guy rolled a particularly good cigarette.

Iruka prayed for summer vacation then. He could really only take his class of delinquents in small doses.

_(System of a Down - Peephole. I was listening to that while I typed this.)_


End file.
